


As in A Mirror Dimly

by freezerjerky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aging, M/M, Retirement, brief mentions of sexual encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been misunderstanding John for all these years after he thought he finished unravelling that puzzle. That confirms that there will never be enough time, that John can't possibly live long enough to be solved, and when he looks over to the unsolvable man, smiling over at him, his heart breaks a bit in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As in A Mirror Dimly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stravaganza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stravaganza/gifts).



> Done for the Johnlockchallenge's Grab Bag challenge. I got the lovely stravaganza (who I've followed for some time) and she gave the prompt "But why BEES?!" This obviously isn't my usual fare, but as possibly my last started project (I will still finish what I've got started), I thought retirement fic would be appropriate.

It's as if they've grown old overnight. Of course, Sherlock's no moron and he knows for a fact it was a slow progression. John's hair didn't turn grey in his sleep one evening and he didn't suddenly start needing bifocals to read everything.

 He decides it's time to take the steps he's always been afraid to take. It seems right to do so now, after John's given him over twenty years of his life, it's the least he can do. The very least. So one evening, he makes them both dinner. It's spaghetti bolognese, John's favourite, and his favourite red wine, even though Sherlock doesn't like it at all and it makes him wrinkle his face with each sip. But he likes the way John tastes when he kisses him after his second glass, and the way they always press their bodies together in just the right way.

The meal goes well, the shared customary silence of two people who have lived together for far too long, yet not long enough. Will it ever be long enough? There's no way to study that, to tell by the contours of John's body or the size of his ears that there will ever be enough. He suspects not, but it's a weak hypothesis at best. John's on his second glass, and he smiles at him across the table.

"What?" John says with a chuckle, looking at him. Sherlock thinks he's in love with how rosy his cheeks look at that moment.

"Nothing, just enjoying the view."

"Haven't had your share of it, yet?"

"No, I don't think I have just yet," he replies, turning silent. "I've been thinking, John."

"As if you ever stop."

"About us, about this, about our life together."

"What about it? I thought we were beyond the point of having to think it over, it just feels sort of natural at this stage, doesn't it?"

It is, yes, but I think we should consider getting married."

John's jaw drops slightly. "Really?"

Yes," he replies in a matter-of-fact tone. "We've been together for over twenty years, wholly committed to each other, and I really don't see why we shouldn't have something to legally bind us."

He doesn't add that his brother's going to retire from the government soon enough and even he isn't sure he can weasel his way into John's hospital room should anything happen. He's sat in the ER time and time again with John, but always managed a way in, but he can't guarantee he'll ever be able to. He can't guarantee he'll be in there to hold John's hand as he dies, and that scares him as anything ever has  
before.

“Alright,” John says at length. “We'll get married.”

 He grins and tops up John's glass.

 

When it comes to planning the ceremony, they decide on something small with just the people they can tolerate, which adds up to not many people at all. They go suit shopping together and John has to force Sherlock out of his dressing room to keep him from dirtying the suit right there and then. Some things never change, after all.

 The day arrives rather fast, entirely because Sherlock planned it that way. There's only about a dozen or so guests. (Sherlock protested excessively about his brother being there, but somehow he arrives anyway. He suspects John personally invited him and will have to work out a punishment later.) Neither of them walks down the aisle, they just stand, waiting for the man to come and to read their vows. Sherlock's eyes glance over to the empty chair in the front row and he realizes John wants it that way, that it's left open, reserved. He's not one for sentimental imagination, no, but when he closes his eyes he can imagine Mrs Hudson sitting there, making a fuss about them. It's then that he realises his mistake.

 John's been waiting for this for the better part of twenty years and he's done something terribly wrong. He was too slow, and there will always be something missing. He's failed John in this important way, this man that wanted to share their joy with the landlady and surrogate mother, and to have a gold ring on his finger when he crawled into bed at night. He's been misunderstanding John for all these years after he thought he finished unravelling that puzzle. That confirms that there will never be enough time, that John can't possibly live long enough to be solved, and when he looks over to the unsolvable man, smiling over at him, his heart breaks a bit in his chest.

 The magistrate asks for vows, something John had especially requested (sentimental) and he listens closely, as those those are the words that he depends on.

 “I'm erm,” John chuckles nervously. “I'm lucky to have you, to have had you, by my side for this long, but this, this ceremony, it doesn't really change anything, only because I've felt married to you for a very, very long time. I've made my vows back then, and I've lived by them, and I hope you've been happy with them and me, and I think I have made you very happy, and I love you.”

 And there he is again, cleaning up Sherlock's doubts and fears, clearing his throat as Sherlock just gapes at him.

 “What?” he asks.

 “Your turn to speak.”

 “Right, right. This is far too sentimental for me, speaking about feelings and bonds. Frankly, I find it tedious, but you're the only person I'd willingly do it for, which I suppose means something. You're the only person I find myself wanting to do something like this for, ever. You're the only person who knows they can get away with asking me to do this without me going into a strop-”

 “You did go into a strop.”

 “Do be quiet, John, you're ruining the moment. The point is, I think this is the next logical step in our commitment, but even if it wasn't, I'd want this anyway. I only wish I hadn't been wrong, for the very rare once, and gone for this sooner.”

 When he's finished, they kiss and it's probably the closest thing to a happy ever after that's ever existed, but even then life goes on. As soon as the ceremony is over, Sherlock drags John out of Molly's over eager embrace to the train station and they head to Edinburgh for a honeymoon weekend. They arrive in time to have a drink and fall into bed, and into each other, fitting their bodies together in a way that only well practised lovers can.

The next day John drags him to the castle and on what feels like half a dozen tours, as well as every cashmere shop in the city to look at scarves. He's seen more than he ever wants to see of the Royal Mile by the time dinner arrives and he's only too happy to pull John into a more secluded pub and find a corner table where no one will mind two older, not nearly old, gentlemen who can't keep their hands off of each other.

 It's no surprise that after dinner they head back to their hotel and to bed. They strip slowly and kiss, taking all the time in the world, no longer feeling the need for the urgent fumbles of their younger days. When they're ready, John presses into Sherlock with as much reverence and awe as he did the very first time. It's not too long until they both completely unravel each other, leaving them both lying in bed, completely sated.

 “I think it's time we left London,” Sherlock begins.

 John turns to him, shifting to lay on his side. “But you love London.”

 “I do, and we could always visit, but I think you need more quiet.”

 “But you don't.” John runs a finger down his cheek. “You need loud and disorder and everything that is London.”

 “Wrong.”

 “Wrong?”

 “I need _you,_ ” he states, “and as healthy and happy as possible too. Everything else is inconsequential. Now, there are some lovely countryside properties in Sussex that I've been looking into-”

 “Sussex?” John exclaims. “What would we possibly do in Sussex?”

 “What we normally do, argue, do experiments, have sex. You could take up gardening and finally get a dog and I could keep bees.”

 John chuckles, pulling him in for a kiss. “It all sounds perfect.” He pauses. “But why bees?”

 “Ah, John. There are some mysteries of mine that you've yet to unravel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Love Love Love" by The Mountain Goats.


End file.
